


keep me

by djhedy



Series: (it's probably nothing) [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Healing, M/M, Post-Canon, Sexuality Crisis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27645421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/djhedy/pseuds/djhedy
Summary: “Kevin Day.”Kevin looked up, and swallowed his food. He placed the guy quickly, then nodded. “Jim, right? You were at my birthday?”“That is correct,” Jim said with a grin. “How’s – however old you are – treating you?”Kevin smirked. “Fine. Thank you. And I’m 21.”Jim grinned. “I love older men.” Kevin raised an eyebrow. Jim shrugged. “I’m 20.”“Right,” said Kevin, going back to his food.“Well that's disappointing,” said Jim.Kevin looked at him again, at his shortened hair, dark and curling around his ears, his tanned skin, and said, “Didn’t we already do this?”“What, me flirting with you?”“Yes.”“No harm trying again,” Jim said with another grin.-kevin becomes friends with someone who knows nothing about exy at all, and realises he feels like he knows nothing about anything that matters
Relationships: Kevin Day/Jim, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Series: (it's probably nothing) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2021377
Comments: 107
Kudos: 237





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> just a short chapter to warm up (i say that as if my chapters aren't always short) but this fic has been on my mind since writing maya's birthday fic a few weeks ago. let's all pretend that the previous fic was always intended to be set in February of canon, and this is the first summer of post-canon. ok? ok. i present to you: Jim. xxx
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/track/5xYpEeGFXmkGMBQ22NfKfO

“Keep it up!” snapped Kevin, jogging over to the freshman to see what the hold up was. Neil met him there, listening to Lisa with an impassive face. Kevin scowled. “Why has she stopped?”

Neil raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m finding out.”

Lisa had expressive hand gestures. Kevin didn’t care for it. He tapped a foot, impatient. She was talking about the height difference between herself and the strikers, excuse after excuse, and finally Kevin interrupted her. “Stop,” he said, “Do you see your senior backliners over there?” He gestured towards Aaron, Nicky and Matt. “5 foot, 5’8, and 6’4. Get your sorry ass a better excuse, 5’4.”

Lisa looked frustrated. “That wasn’t my _point_.”

“That wasn’t her point,” Neil said.

“I’m not saying it’s too hard –”

“Good,” said Kevin, turning away. Neil grabbed his arm.

“Just that I feel like I need to learn different tactics for playing against you as I do against Neil.”

Kevin looked at Lisa, Neil’s hand still on him. He said, “That’s not how it works. It’s not about _them,_ it’s about you, and you’re either good enough to be on this team or you’re not.”

But Neil sighed, and kicked Kevin gently in the shin. He said, “Ignore him. We can work with that. For now, we’ll play you against Kevin and Jack one practise, and against me and Dan another, until you have it in your head. Ok?”

Lisa nodded, “Thank you, that’s all I was asking,” and Neil nodded as she went back to her starting spot.

Kevin shook Neil’s hand off. “Nice work, _captain_ ,” he said sarcastically.

“What are you complimenting, my ability to actually _listen_ to them or being willing to actually _work_ with them?”

Kevin shook his head. “We don’t have time for this.”

“Get back to your starting spot, 6’1,” Neil said, waving a hand dismissively at him.

Kevin felt a certain way about Neil’s captaincy.

When they got back to the dorm, limbs deliciously sore and Kevin’s mind already full of notes to jot down in his book, he checked his phone to see a missed call from Thea. He threw it down on his desk and opened the fridge.

“Do we have any food?” asked Nicky, yawning against a counter.

“You don’t live here anymore,” said Kevin.

“Ouch, way to cut a brother out,” said Nicky, one hand on his heart. He opened the fridge door further and pulled a face. “Oh no.” He raised his voice. “ _ANDREW. YOU WERE MEANT TO GO SHOPPING._ ”

There was a moment of silence from the living room, and then Neil yelled, “ _DON’T YELL AT ANDREW, HE’S UNAVAILABLE RIGHT NOW.”_

Kevin poked his head round the door to see Andrew curled up on the sofa with a book, a smug expression on his face while Neil sat next to him, his face already in schoolwork.

Nicky raised an eyebrow when Kevin pulled his head back, and Kevin shook his head. “We’re safe,” he said, and Nicky laughed.

“Wanna go out?” Nicky asked, pulling out his phone.

Kevin thought of his own phone, and pushed the thought away.

“Grocery shopping or eating out?” asked Kevin. “And do we have to invite Andrew?”

Nicky smirked down at his phone. “I doubt they’ll want to come.”

Kevin paused, not understanding. Then he scowled. “Gross.”

“Oh! Some of my drama friends are going out for dinner. Perfect.”

“That’s not perfect. I’ll hate them.”

“You’ve met some of them before.”

“Exactly,” said Kevin, already turning away, his mind filling with thoughts of sushi take out and an old exy match.

Nicky hauled Kevin into the living room and said, “Hey, do you guys want Kevin tonight?”

“No,” Neil and Andrew said simultaneously, neither one lifting their heads.

“That’s just creepy,” said Nicky with a grin, while Kevin scowled at everything.

“I do live here.”

“No one cares,” Neil said. Then he paused, and looked up. And grinned. A rare grin. Kevin frowned at it. “Sorry,” said Neil. “It’s the Andrew rubbing off on me.”

“Kinky,” said Andrew without looking up.

“Oh _god_ ,” said Kevin. “Fine. I hope you both starve.” He grabbed his phone and his keys, adjusted his shirt in the mirror, flattened his hair, and slammed the door behind him and Nicky.

They walked, because neither of them had a car they were allowed to drive, and because they were only heading a mile into downtown Palmetto. It felt good to stretch out, their long limbs almost matching stride for stride along the sidewalk.

Nicky talked, and Kevin listened, mostly, except when he felt he had constructive criticism to offer. Nicky would grin, and roll his eyes, and shove Kevin a little, and keep talking, and Kevin would keep listening, waiting for somewhere else he could join in.

The restaurant was more bar than it was eatery, and Kevin felt himself relax a little. While Nicky found his table of friends, Kevin went straight to the bar and ordered a vodka with a single ice cube. He sipped at it, sighed, paid, and turned to face his evening.

“Kevin!” Nicky called, gesturing at a spare chair someone had clearly crammed in. Kevin sat himself down. “This is Kevin,” Nicky said again, unnecessarily.

Kevin nodded to a few familiar faces.

Talk started up, like it had paused for their appearance, and then they were ordering food, and the girl to his left was asking if he’d considered playing football instead, and then food arrived, and everyone shared, and dishes passed Kevin and he spooned a few things into his plate, and considered how much he cared about the nutritional content, and decided he didn’t care the second he ate a forkful of some dark red curry and rice because _fuck_ that was delicious, and then the guy to his right stood up to leave and someone else slid into his space.

“Kevin Day.”

Kevin looked up, and swallowed his food. He placed the guy quickly, then nodded. “Jim, right? You were at my birthday?”

“That is correct,” Jim said with a grin. “How’s – however old you are – treating you?”

Kevin smirked. “Fine. Thank you. And I’m 21.”

Jim grinned. “I love older men.” Kevin raised an eyebrow. Jim shrugged. “I’m 20.”

“Right,” said Kevin, going back to his food.

“Well that's disappointing,” said Jim.

Kevin looked at him again, at his shortened hair, dark and curling around his ears, his tanned skin, and said, “Didn’t we already do this?”

“What, me flirting with you?”

“Yes.”

“No harm trying again,” Jim said with a grin.

Kevin shook his head, but he relaxed into his chair. “So. What’s the occasion?”

“Occasion?” Jim stirred his food around a little, sneaking glances at Kevin’s face, his shoulders.

Kevin gestured. “This.”

“Oh. It’s Wednesday. Perfect reason to celebrate as any.” Jim grinned, his southern accent disarming Kevin for a second, the sound of it like rainwater on a beating-hot day.

Kevin binked and said, “Is it?” looking away to where Nicky was laughing with a couple of girls.

“You’d know if you ever came out. How come I never see you?” Kevin looked back to see Jim genuinely contemplating him before looking away to take a bite of his food.

Kevin looked down at his own plate, spooned curry into his mouth, let vodka burn down his throat, then said, “I’m at the gym every morning, I practise for three hours every afternoon, I have a full course load.” He shrugged.

“So does Nicky,” said Jim.

Kevin felt irritated, and tried to wash it down with the remaining vodka. He held up his glass and placed an order with a waiter for more. When he looked back, Jim was still watching him, waiting.

Kevin sighed. “It’s not the same. Nicky will not go pro.”

Jim smiled. “Not good enough?”

“No.”

Jim’s eyebrows raised. “Well.”

Kevin frowned with the effort of communication. This is why he never came to things like this. “I don’t mean it like that. He knows he isn’t. He’s not interested anyway.”

“Well, isn’t there a difference between not being good enough at something and not _wanting_ it? Did Nicky say that?”

Kevin shrugged.

Nicky called across the table, “Hey, dish! What are y’all saying about me?”

Jim grinned. “Kevin here’s singing your praises.”

Nicky laughed louder than Kevin felt was warranted. “Oh, sure. That’s about as likely as you going home with Andrea tonight.”

Andrea, presumably, elbowed Nicky in the side, an amused expression on her face. “Hey, no one offered.”

“Someone should,” someone else said, apparently not interested in offering themself. “Poor guy hasn’t had any all year.”

A few people laughed, and Jim frowned, Kevin watching as pink crept up through his cheeks. “Shut up, please.”

“Aw, be nice to the guy,” Nicky said with a grin, “School only started back a couple of weeks ago.”

Chatter started up again, and Jim busied himself with his fork, and then his knife, and then his wine, and then Kevin’s vodka arrived and Kevin held his glass up and said, “To celibacy.”

Jim looked at him, surprised, and then burst into laughter. “Sure, Kevin Day,” he said, “I’ll toast to that. Not sure what kinda luck it’s gonna bring us, though.” They clinked glasses, and Kevin, on a whim, downed his in one. Jim sucked a few more gulps of his wine down before returning his glass to the table, smiling at Kevin.

Kevin smirked. “No kind of luck at all, probably.”

They were hanging around outside, everyone trying to decide whether to go on to another club or not. Drama majors. Kevin and Nicky were heading back, a 6am alarm clock waiting for them in eight hours.

Jim pulled on his denim jacket and hugged it tight around him. “Can I see you again?”

Kevin just looked at him. “What do you mean?”

Jim’s face tinted again, and Kevin felt frustrated. He hadn’t meant – like – he just meant – “I just mean, you seem cool,” Jim said, looking away. He looked back, steeling his expression. “Maybe we can hang out, or something. Nicky too,” he added quickly.

Kevin thought about it, and shrugged. “Maybe. I’m pretty busy,” he said.

Jim grinned. “I’m flattered.” Kevin felt a little embarrassed and looked away. “Well, whatever. Nicky has my number.”

Kevin looked back up. He nodded. “Ok.”

“Cool,” said Jim, grin still in place. He held up his fist, and Kevin looked at it before bumping it with his own.

He watched Jim get pulled into the crowd with the others, and turned to fall into step with Nicky as they walked the other direction. Nicky smirked at him. “What is this I see before me? Is Kevin actually making _friends_?”

Kevin shoved him into the road.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slow n steady n all that  
> one day i will find the plot  
> at the moment the plot is "kevin is a disaster and has no idea"  
> and: angst  
> because, ya know  
> it ya boi hedy  
> xxx

Neil was talking to Kevin about plays. They were on their way to the club, the promise of a buzz already ringing in Kevin’s ear. Neil said, “Are you listening, Kevin?”

Kevin was staring out the window behind Andrew’s seat, and turned to give Neil a derisive glare. “Yes,” he said, “I just don’t see the value in arguing this one.”

“Because you think you’ll get your way anyway,” Nicky said from the other side of Aaron.

Kevin frowned at him. “Neil is vice captain, not me. When Dan is not here next year, he will have to have learned how to make his own decisions.” The car was silent. Kevin shuffled. And added, “And face his own consequences.”

Nicky laughed, and Aaron shook his head, and Neil opened his mouth to argue, and Andrew just said, shortly, “We’re here,” a command to shut up.

Kevin shut up, and drank.

He rarely danced. He barely even cared that when he didn’t, it was just him and Neil and Andrew. It was just the three of them in the dorm too. Fuck them if they thought Kevin was going to feel like a third wheel. It wasn’t _his_ fault they were an item now.

Andrew bought more shots, and Kevin knocked back two, and held his head in his hands.

Their first game was on Friday, and Kevin had just started his fourth year, and, he didn’t _hate_ it, not now that he was able to specialise a little more. He was just busy. There was a lot to do, and he spent most of his time wishing there were more hours in the day. He would study, one knee tapping frantically under the desk as his head ran through plays, or he’d be running himself ragged on the court, brain blissfully clear until he entered the locker room and remembered what paper was due the next day.

But he didn’t hate it.

Kevin knew himself. He _thrived_ off a busy schedule. It was the thing he had the most pride in; the knowledge he could always near-kill himself trying.

His favourite subjects were Ancient History, Postcolonial Literature, and Irish History. His professor had asked if he was interested in reading some Irish texts, and Kevin shook his head no, he didn’t know any Irish. So now he was in the library, just looking, knowing this stuff existed on the internet too, but he had no idea how to learn languages like this. Just thought he’d look. He’d learned French and Japanese from his family, like second skins. He had no idea how normal people did this, what approaches existed, what it would look like to pick a language, to learn it on purpose.

So, Irish. Maybe.

He found a book called _Gaelic: a grammar_ , and pulled it off the shelf.

“Kevin Day,” said someone to his right.

He looked up. “Jim.”

Jim was gripping his bag strap tight around his shoulders, hair messy as if he hadn’t learned how to wear it short yet, a loose purple shirt over a long-sleeved grey top, and ripped faded jeans. It shouldn’t have been a good look.

Jim smiled. “What you here for?”

Kevin showed him his book, and Jim tilted his head. “What’s _Gaelic_?”

“Irish.”

“Oh. Why d’ya wanna learn that?”

Kevin looked at him, then down at the book, then put it back on the shelf. “I don’t.”

“Ok.”

Jim waited, watching Kevin, so Kevin met his eyes and said, “And yourself?”

Jim looked around. “I’m looking for Ancient Greek. Got an assignment coming up, Greek plays.”

“Theatre majors need to study languages?”

“Ok, mr condescending –” Jim had a laser-sharp grin on his face but Kevin still felt his stomach drop a little and looked away, studying the dust on a piece of bare shelf – “I’m just interested. I kinda like translation stuff.”

Kevin looked up again. He fiddled with the ends of his exy jacket, then said, “Show me.”

They moved over to a table, and Kevin got his books out, fumbled around until he found his literature assignment that was due first, put it on top, aligned his books neatly, then looked over at Jim’s copy of _The Bacchae_.

“What’s it about?” Kevin asked.

Jim looked at him in surprise, then smirked. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised the jock hasn’t heard of Euripedes.”

Kevin glared. “I’ve heard of Euripedes. He wrote Oedipus.”

“No,” said Jim, shaking his head, but looking less condescending and more – enthusiastic? – “that’s Sophocles. Euripedes is the _Bacchae_ , man. Listen, it’s all about the gods, pettiness and vengeance and stuff like that – hey, you like Shakespeare, right?”

Kevin felt his eyebrows rise, surprised Jim had remembered a conversation they’d had _months_ ago. “I suppose.”

“Ok, well, Dionysus disguises himself like a stranger, like in Shakespeare, yeah? They’re always doing shit like that. Dramatic irony, you know? Dionysus has followers who are all about drinking and sex and – he’s the god of wine. Anyway.” Jim stretched his fingers out across an open page, like he was thinking. “It’s kind of about Dionysus being pissed people aren’t worshipping him, but really it’s all about fragile masculinity.”

Kevin blinked. And looked back up into Jim’s face. “It is?”

“Uh huh,” said Jim, looking pleased with himself.

Kevin frowned. “Ok.” There was an awkward silence, then Kevin scratched a finger around the circle of his knee, and said, “Tell me.” So Jim did.

They walked out the library together, and Jim said, with a self-deprecating laugh, “Sorry. If you let me, I’ll just talk and talk and talk.”

Kevin shrugged, and said, “Doesn’t bother me,” because it didn’t, his head ringing with _bacchants_ and _bulls_ and _blood._

Jim grinned. “Cool. So. When we hanging out again?”

Kevin shrugged again, and looked around. His mind played a little with his schedule. “I will be studying at the library at 8am tomorrow morning.”

“That’s early. I mean, not for you, obviously. Ha. But. Ya know. For me.”

“A lowly theatre major,” Kevin said drily.

Jim just laughed. It made Kevin smile a little. Jim said, “Yeah. That.” He ran a hand through his hair, and shrugged. “Buy me breakfast after?” Kevin hesitated. “Oh my god,” said Jim, rolling his eyes and shoving a hand at Kevin’s shoulder. “Not like that, dude. I’m over you. Asshole.”

Kevin pursed his lips together, then said, “I have class afterwards. But another time?” Jim nodded. “Ok. See you then.” Kevin turned on his heel, and left.

The next day, Jim slid coffee over to Kevin, and Kevin asked if it had milk, and it didn’t, so he accepted it, and they worked in silence while left-over adrenaline from the gym and his hot shower warred with sleeplessness and an innate inability to understand the English language this early in the morning. He wrote down two more words before Jim said, “How was, like, the gym this morning?”

Kevin looked at him, and felt himself smirking. “How was the _gym_?”

Jim looked embarrassed. He laughed. “I dunno man. What are you supposed to ask a guy who voluntarily wakes up before sunrise every day to work out?”

“The sun rises at 5:30am.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Your statement was inaccurate –”

Jim flicked Kevin’s pen off the table. Kevin watched it go. “You knew what I meant.” Before Kevin could react, Jim pushed his chair back, moved round the table, and picked Kevin’s pen off the floor. He settled it back on Kevin’s almost-blank page, and sat back down. “Gym. Tell me things.”

“Tell you things,” repeated Kevin, bemused.

“What do you do?”

“At the gym?”

“Yeah.”

Kevin shook his head. “I – we work out. There are machines. You run on them. You lift things, with your legs, your arms, you – have you never been?”

Jim grinned. “Nope. I love myself too much for that.”

Kevin felt frustrated. He frowned. “If you loved yourself, you’d look after your body.”

Jim’s grin faded.

Hotness crept over Kevin. Had he done that thing again. He wasn’t sure. He blustered a little. Snapped, “Don’t be offended,” after a couple of false starts. “I don’t mean to say that you don’t, how would I know. We do not know each other. I’m just saying that you have a body, and it’s the only one you get, and you should take care of it.”

Jim nodded, “Ok man. I get you.”

“Take spinach, for example,” said Kevin, moving to close his notebook, mind too focused on not being here anymore to pay much attention to the words leaving his mouth.

“What?”

“Do you like spinach?”

Jim nodded slowly, a smile creeping over his face.

“Works well in smoothies,” said Kevin, not looking at Jim. “Thickens it and it’s full of iron. I could – I will make you one some time. It does not have to be all 6am workouts.” He shoved his books in his bag, and stood up.

“Oh, are you going?” said Jim, looking like he found Kevin’s inadequacies amusing.

Kevin did not. He hardened, holding himself up right. “Yes. I have class.” And left.

That evening, finally laying his head down on the pillow, and closing his eyes, and wondering how long it would take to get to sleep tonight, his eyes snapped open to the sound of his phone beeping. Neil mumbled, “Noisy,” and Andrew grumbled, and Kevin fumbled around to find his phone. He put it on silent, and opened his messages.

_hey. it’s jim._

**how did you get my number?**

**this is kevin day by the way.**

_haha yes, yes i know_

_i texted you, remember?_

_i got your number off nicky_

_we didn’t arrange to hang out again_

**ok. library, Monday morning at 8am.**

_sure, or, you know, we could do something fun?_

**like what?**

_LIKE, come out this weekend? some of my friends are going to the movies tomorrow?_

**I have a game.**

_ah, balls and sticks, huh? well, after?_

**team bonding**

_sounds fun?_

**sometimes.**

_right_

**sorry. I have a very busy schedule.**

_sure, no worries man, i get it_

**see you on Monday.**

_see you monday._

And then it was the game, and Kevin did not have any time to think.

Kevin loved not having any time to think.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cannot tell you how much love i have for everyone reading this ridiculous rarepair. thank you guys!  
> JIM, thought i. what a name. what a one-line character. I WILL LOVE HIM, said i. and i do. xxx

Having a study partner was useful. Jim didn’t chatter like Nicky did, or scratch notes in a way that irritated Kevin all the way up and down his spine like Aaron did, or talk in under-their-breath Russian like Neil and Andrew did. He was quiet when Kevin wanted quiet, and the rest of the time;

They talked.

It was ok.

And Kevin was too busy for it to be anything else, to _really_ have new people in his life. And Jim knew that.

One time he asked, about Kevin’s friends. It was quite naive, Kevin thought, the way he said, “So, what do you do when you’re not being a big exy star?”

Kevin lifted his head out of his history textbook and blinked a few times before focusing on Jim’s face. “Excuse me?”

“Like, do you have other friends? Who do you hang out with?”

Kevin tapped his finger on the table. He wasn’t sure what Jim wanted. “The Foxes,” he said. “I don’t have time for anyone else.”

And Jim’s face had done something weird before he’d barked out a laugh and said, “Is this why I’m relegated to study hours?” Kevin had frowned at him before that pleasant smile had settled back on Jim’s face, and he’d waved off Kevin’s confusion and said, “I’m joking.”

And in a few weeks, they were playing the Ravens.

Which was a completely unknown thing, with Riko and the Master gone.

A week before, Neil pulled Kevin aside at practise and said, “What is wrong with you today?”

They didn’t have time for this. Kevin explained that defence weren’t working well with Andrew yet, and they weren’t ready, and Neil wasn’t working as hard this year as last year, and vice captaincy was no reason to slack off, and the freshmen weren’t anywhere _near_ ready to play on a Class 1 team – and maybe he’d raised his voice a little, because Dan came over, helmet off and expression stern, and said, “Kevin, maybe you need to take a little break.”

Kevin took his helmet off, and threw it at her.

Dan jumped back, of course, because _she_ belonged on a class 1 team, she had _earned_ her spot of captain, had earned his respect. He didn’t know what any of the rest of them were doing here.

And then Andrew appeared at his elbow, pulling Neil back a little, and pointing Kevin off the court.

Kevin went, walking past coach without looking at him.

In the locker room he gulped down a bottle of water, and splashed some on his head in the sink, and still felt too hot, and ripped his jersey off, and stood shaking in his long-sleeved tight shirt and shorts and gear that felt too heavy, so he started taking the armour off too, when Neil and Andrew appeared.

He glared at them. “What are you doing? Get back on the court.”

Neil raised an eyebrow. “What do you think? Preventing you from having a nervous breakdown.”

Andrew sat on the floor cross-legged, one elbow resting carelessly on his knee, holding his face up, angled to watch the action but not partake in it.

Kevin was used to his apathy by now, no longer felt the sting of it.

But Neil – Neil was someone he could have an argument with. So he snapped, “We are nowhere _near_ ready to play against the Ravens next week.”

Neil leaned against a locker, hands in his pockets, and looked like he often did these days – steely, determined. _Confident_. “Says who? Riko?”

Andrew smothered a laugh into his hand, coughed indelicately, then said, “Ha.”

Kevin glared at Andrew, then paced up and down. “You know as well as I do all their skill did not come from _one_ person.”

“It did not,” said Neil, nodding. “They are all skilled players.” He paused, dramatic asshole that he was, and Kevin stopped pacing to meet his eyes. Neil’s lips curled into a smile. “But we are _better_.”

Kevin stomped through the fallen leaves. “We are not _better_. That isn’t just something Neil can say, and have be true. Better is _earned_ , and we have not yet earned it this year.”

Jim nodded, spreading his hand around his takeout cup. “Ok. So. Yeah. That sounds annoying.” Kevin gave him a look, and Jim grinned apologetically. “Ok but isn’t this stuff about confidence? Neil sounds like kinda a confident guy. I mean who wouldn’t be after all that shit last year.”

Kevin frowned. “You know about that?”

“Nicky,” Jim said, pursing his lips. He frowned. “Poor guy.”

Kevin narrowed his eyes, and pressed forward, stepping on a pinecone. “So, you’d heard of Neil, but not me.”

Jim laughed. It was more like a giggle, something half-supressed and so playful that Kevin couldn’t help smile as Jim shoved him sideways.

Jim said, “Listen. You work hard, right?” Kevin didn’t answer. “They do too, I get that, but. I dunno, isn’t sport at this level just luck basically?”

Kevin stopped walking, hands in his pockets, head down – and took a deep breath. Jim had stopped too. Kevin started walking again and said, “No. No it is not.”

Jim chuckled, elbowing him in the arm. “Ok man. Well. You seem to work really fucking hard. Why can’t it be you?”

“No one works as hard as the Ravens.”

Jim sipped at his smoothie, and Kevin did the same, and they were nearly at the library, so they stood still, giving themselves an extra minute to finish their drinks in peace, amongst the summer-fall campus, the fallen leaves, Jim’s half-smile. Jim said, “I think you can do it.”

“You don’t know _anything_ about exy,” Kevin said, smiling through the derision.

Jim grinned. “You’re right. My opinion probably means nothing.”

They threw their empty cups in the trash, and walked inside in the library.

They had a usual table by now, and dumped on it their bags, and books, and Jim stretched out before slumping in his chair. Kevin sat straight-spined in his, but shoulders a little hunched over, yawning into one hand and widening his eyes to take in the words on his page. After only a couple minutes of silence Jim leaned over. “What’s that?”

His fingers were pressing over Kevin’s notebook, a diagram and some notes of a new play. Kevin moved his hand across the page to shove Jim’s off, the briefest of touches. Kevin frowned at where Jim’s hand had been. “A play. For the Ravens match.”

“Huh.” Kevin looked up to see Jim tilting his head, and narrowing his eyes at the diagram, and pursed his lips. Jim shook his head. “Would you explain it to me?”

_Oh, what the hell._ Kevin smiled. “Sure.”

Kevin was pacing up and down the dorm. Andrew threw his head back and said, “Make him stop.”

Neil threw a cushion at Kevin. Kevin caught it and threw it back, and continued pacing. Neil shrugged and said, “I tried.”

Andrew said, “Your definition of trying is inadequate.”

Kevin groaned, and held his head in his hands, and said, “Shut up, for like for second will you? I am trying to concentrate.”

“You’re trying to give yourself a stroke,” Neil said. Andrew just pointed at him.

Kevin slammed the door behind him, and opened Aaron’s room without knocking. Aaron, Nicky and Matt were in the living room, playing a game and barely looking up. Aaron said, “Andrew?”

And Kevin said, “ _Both_ of them.”

“Our sympathies,” said Nicky. Matt just laughed.

Kevin’s phone pinged and he looked at it. He had two text messages, both wishing him good luck, and then suddenly one incoming call. He pressed answer before he saw who it was, trying not to let the pleased surprise filter through his voice as he said, “Hey?”

“Day.” It was Thea, voice filled with hard affection, and Kevin’s smile dropped.

“Hey.”

“Good luck.”

“Thank you.”

“You know they don’t stand a chance without Tetsuji.”

Kevin nodded, even as he said, “Carrigan is an _impossible_ backliner.”

“He’s a wall, but all walls have their weak points.”

Kevin nodded, and said, “We don’t stand a chance.”

Nicky yelled, “WE CAN HEAR YOU,” and Kevin went into their bedroom and shut the door behind him. He leaned against one of the beds.

Thea said, “I _know_ you can do this.”

So Kevin just said, “Thank you,” and listened through the rest of Thea’s pleasantries before hanging up.

He rocked his head back against the frame of the bunk bed, scratching his neck against the wood with his eyes closed, before dialling a number on his phone and holding it to his ear.

“Hey.” He could practically hear Jim’s smile through the phone. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Kevin smirked. “Asshole.”

“Why am I being an asshole?”

“You know why. Can’t I just call and say hey.”

“Maybe you can, but you never have done before.” Kevin shrugged, and was quiet, and then Jim said, “When does the match kick-off?”

Kevin frowned. “This isn’t _soccer_.”

“Ok whatever. What do you do with an exy ball? When does it _throw-off_?”

Kevin did not want to be finding this amusing. “There is nothing remotely amusing about your ignorance.”

“Sure there isn’t,” Jim said cheerfully. “Isn’t it soon?”

“An hour. We have to leave in a minute.”

“Ok. Cool. Hey, should I have come?”

Kevin frowned. “Why?”

“Dunno. Is that something friends do? Go to their extremely talented friends’ extremely boring events?”

Kevin was enraged; he smirked at the wall. “You are pathetic. What am I supposed to say to that?”

“You’re _supposed_ to say that next time you’ll remember to invite me.” Kevin hummed, and peeled a little at the wallpaper. “Anyway, good luck! Throw that ball.”

“And catch it.”

“Yes. Do good catching. I want to hear all about the catching later.”

“Ok. Bye.”

“See ya.”

Kevin hung up, and looked at his phone for a minute, before turning it off completely and marching out to collect his teammates.

Kevin loved exy.

But beating the Ravens, with Neil at his side and nothing but smug French between them and the goal, nothing but a defeated grief emanating from his former-teammates, excited clacks and cackles from the Foxes, a pumped adrenaline carrying him all the way through to his final assist, when he did something Riko would never have done, and passed an easy goal to Jack, and Jack scoring and throwing his racquet up as the final buzzer sounded, leading them to win an easy 10-7, and Neil at his side, grin firm on his face; he wasn’t sure he’d ever loved anything more.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well hello it's another episode of jim, your friendly neighbourhood adorable gay x

Kevin had never had a friend who wasn’t an exy player.

Jim texted him every day. Sometimes Kevin ignored the buzzing in his phone until he was out of sight of the others. They studied together a few times a week. Sometimes Jim called after a night out, when he was buzzed from alcohol and Kevin was buzzed from practise, clearing the court or waiting by the car while Andrew and Neil were off getting changed or getting some, phone to his ear smirking while Jim drunkenly narrated the antics of his friends.

And sometimes, Jim tried to invite him out.

They were walking to the coffee shop on campus, library abandoned, thick coat wrapped around Kevin’s exy jacket, hands stuffed in his pockets while Jim detailed the party he was dreading going to that weekend.

Kevin said, “You are always going to parties. Maybe you should consider doing something else.”

Jim laughed, but Kevin just looked at him. “I’m serious. Do you even enjoy it?”

Jim looked away, and hummed.

They reached the cafe, and Jim said, “Oh man actually I’m getting hot chocolate.”

Kevin fidgeted, and opened his mouth, and closed it again, and closed his eyes.

Jim said, “Why are your eyes closed?”

Kevin started counting to 10, failed, opened his eyes and blurted out, “Hot chocolate has absolutely no nutritional value, you know.”

Jim blinked, then smirked. “Calcium? Some of us aren’t as big as you.”

Kevin frowned at him. “Your bones aren’t growing anymore.”

“Speak for yourself,” said Jim, eyes darting down his body before walking away.

Kevin followed him to the counter. “I’m just saying, there are healthier options.”

“Sure there are,” said Jim. He turned to the barista, “One large hot chocolate please.”

“Ok, this is your choice,” said Kevin, feeling tight and irritated and focusing his attention on the board.

“With whipped cream and marshmallows. OH and a peppermint shot! Yesss.”

“I am ignoring you.”

“And you, sir?”

“Oh he’ll have a device to remove the stick up his butt.”

Kevin was appalled. He looked at Jim, appalled, then glanced at the barista to see the guy laughing. Kevin frowned, pursed his lips, and said nothing. Jim grinned. “Black coffee. Regular.”

“Coming up,” said the guy, amusement all over his face and eyes flicking to Jim. He made the coffee first, so Kevin paid and took his coffee and stomped over to the first free table. He looked out the window, watched the other patrons, glanced back to see Jim and the guy still talking. Jim laughing and the guy barely paying attention to the drink he was meant to be making. Eventually Jim came over and sat opposite Kevin, eyes on his.

Kevin said, tightly, “I am not apologising.”

“No, sure, I wouldn’t expect you to,” Jim said, sipping at his hot chocolate, voice dripping with amusement.

Kevin scowled. “Anyway.”

“Yes,” Jim said, with a nod, “Anyway, we were talking about the party.”

“Ok.”

“And I was thinking how to make it more fun.”

“You could start by drinking less.”

“That’s sort of the opposite of what I was thinking. And you’re a hypocrite.”

“You could consider spending quality time with people you actually know instead of people handing out leaflets to college parties.”

“Yes,” Jim said, pointing to him. “Exactly. Here is my plan. Are you ready? It’s genius.”

Kevin’s lips upturned slightly on one side. He sighed through it and said, “Yes? What.”

“Come with me.”

Kevin looked away, smile vanishing. He gazed out the window and said, “Why would I do that?”

“Because! It’ll be fun. We can get wasted together. I’ll even let you mock the interpretive dance students.”

“We do that anyway.”

“Come on, why not? You never –”

“No.”

Silence dropped over them like a cloud, like suddenly no one else in the world was speaking, just Jim’s hardened expression in Kevin’s peripheral vision, and students bustling outside in the autumn cold.

Jim said, “Right.”

And Kevin finally looked at him again and said, “I’m sorry.”

Jim paused, eyes steady, then looked away and laughed. But it was not his laugh. It was something borrowed, something meant to hurt. Kevin frowned. “About what, Kevin? I get it, ok. It is what it is.”

Kevin sat back, and fiddled with his cup. After a few moments he said, “What is it?”

When Jim met his eyes there was no emotion there, only distance and composure, and Kevin _hated_ it. “We’re study partners. I keep trying to push for something else, and, I’m sorry. My bad I guess.”

Kevin blinked. And looked down at his drink, and said, “Well. We are _friends_.”

“Nope.” Kevin looked up. Jim shrugged unapologetically. “Listen man, it’s whatever, but I’m not particularly interested in being friends with someone who’s ashamed to be seen out with me. I don’t know what your problem is –”

Kevin sat up straight. “What exactly do you think my problem is.”

Jim smiled, the kind of smile that meant Kevin should be expecting to get hit. He took in a deep breath as Jim said, “I mean, is it because I’m gay? Are you _kidding_?”

Kevin shook his head, and looked away, and shook his head, and tightened his grip around his cup, and said, “You’re crazy. I’ve been friends with Nicky for longer than you have.”

“We met through Nicky, sure. But you said it yourself you guys aren’t _friends_.” Jim stood up, and Kevin’s eyes followed him. “And maybe I’m figuring out why.” He took his cup, and left Kevin in the coffee shop, alone.

They didn’t have a game on Friday, but no one felt like going to Columbia. They crowded into the girls’ room, and Kevin sat through a movie he didn’t pay attention to. On Saturday morning he woke up to a softly spoken argument across the room, threw his pillow at the noise until he heard it leaving the bedroom, door closing behind them, and went back to sleep.

When he woke it was late, around noon, and Neil was tapping him on the forehead, smirk on his face. Kevin batted him away, turning his face down into the mattress. Neil said, “Listen, you made me promise never to let you sleep past noon. It is 12 on the dot.” He tapped Kevin on the back of his head and said, “Up. Up. Up. Up-“

“ _Neil_ ,” Kevin said, sitting up and swatting him away, thoroughly annoyed. “When did I _ever_ make you promise that.”

Neil shrugged. “Ok, I made that up. But I’m bored. And I have this history assignment –” Kevin through his covers off and stormed into the shower, ignoring Neil completely.

They spent the afternoon on school work, Kevin hunched over his desk, and explaining the points to Neil, and crossing through his essay with a red pen, and Andrew interrupting by yawning dramatically, and pushing their books aside to side cross-legged on the desk and loudly playing a phone game, and tugging Neil’s collar to get his attention, and eventually Kevin texted Aaron, _come take him off my hands before i remove his._ And Aaron showed up two minutes later, computer game in hand, and Andrew hopped off the desk and into a beanbag, and by 6pm Kevin had finished two assignments and helped Neil get a sure B in his history class. It was a good day.

But his limbs felt sore, and sort of unsatisfied. He stretched, and scowled at the achey response, and Neil said, “Shouldn’t have slept so late.” Kevin shoved his face away.

He stood in the kitchen, tapping the counter. Aaron yelled, “WHATEVER YOU’RE MAKING MAKE ME SOME TOO.”

He heard Andrew reply, “You don’t live here.”

“Call it compensation for babysitting.”

There was a pause, then Andrew raised his voice to say, “Touché, Day. ...Ha.”

Neil appeared. “Need some help?”

Kevin frowned at the sink. “No.”

Neil hesitated, then shrugged and left. He reappeared two minutes later and said, “I didn’t hear any cooking. I wanted to check you hadn’t died.”

Kevin lifted his eyes and said, “Do you want to go out?”

Neil raised an eyebrow. “Not particularly. Andrew might.”

Kevin moved passed him and said, “We’re going out.”

Aaron paused the game and looked up. “All of us?”

Kevin took his phone out and, after investigating Jim’s social media, found the address. “There’s a party. On campus.”

Andrew sighed dramatically. “ _No_.”

Neil plonked down in his lap. “Might be fun.”

“I thought you didn’t want to go?” Kevin said, annoyed.

Neil shrugged, snaking an arm around Andrew’s neck. He smirked. “I changed my mind.”

Aaron’s expression was tight. “I’m not going just so you two can make-out in dark corners.”

Andrew threw his controller away and held Neil around the waist, looking at no one. “I’m suddenly available.”

Neil looked down at him, overwhelming fondness on his face, and Kevin exchanged a look with Aaron before leaving to find his exy jacket. And then stared instead at his brown bomber jacket in the wardrobe, and changed his mind.

“Has someone told Nicky?” asked Aaron as they were ready to leave.

“Let’s just go,” Kevin said, pushing his way out the door and stalking down the corridor.

“We could be Columbia,” said Aaron, looking unhappily into his plastic cup.

Kevin switched his cheap beer out for vodka and relaxed against the wall. “Further away,” he said.

“And more private.”

“We don’t know anyone here anyway.” Kevin looked around.

Aaron did too. “I know at least five people here. I hate it.”

Kevin chuckled, and downed his vodka. “There’s booze,” he pointed out with a satisfied sigh.

“Yeah,” Aaron said, putting his cup down and pulling out his phone. “I’m calling Katelyn.” He wondered off, phone to his cheek, and Kevin, with a last glance to check he wasn’t being watched, moved through the crowd.

He found Jim in the kitchen, talking animatedly with a guy and a girl, hands gesturing as his friends laughed. Kevin stood awkwardly in the doorway until the girl noticed him, and touched a hand to Jim’s shoulder and pointed. Kevin moved forward the second Jim turned round. Jim looked blank, and then tilted his head, and then a broad grin spread across his face. Kevin couldn’t help it. He smiled.

Jim said, “Well. Hey. You made it.”

Kevin nodded. “Yes. Sure.”

Jim clapped him on the shoulder, then moved to rest his hand in the middle of Kevin’s back, and gestured to his friends. “Susan, and Mitchell. This is Kevin.”

Kevin nodded again, holding out a hand to shake, and Mitchell laughed while Susan thumped him in the shoulder and took Kevin’s hand, giving him a firm shake. “Nice to meet you,” she said with a grin.

Kevin cleared his throat and removed his hand. Jim relaxed against the counter, smiling at him, removing his hand from his back slow and – warm.

The warmth left and Jim picked up his drink and Mitchell said, something untrusting on his face, “How do we know you?’

Kevin cocked his head. “We?”

He looked to Jim who was rolling his eyes. “Michie’s my like oldest friend. He thinks we are one person. We are _not_.”

“You admit you’re a ‘we’ though,” Susan said, looking at Kevin, as though including him in the amusement. Kevin smiled at her.

Michie’s expression was dark. He said, “I’m his favourite person.”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” said Jim, leaning and arms crossed and long body and -

Kevin looked at him, then said, “Ah. He’s your Andrew.”

Susan and Michie were quiet, confused, but Jim burst out laughing, and touched Kevin’s arm, fingers gripping his jacket and holding on.

Michie said, “Who’s Andrew?”

Kevin downed his vodka. “He’s the guy who thinks he’s my favourite person. Can I get anyone another drink?”

Jim followed him out of the room while Michie objected loudly and Susan laughed at him, and once they were back in the main room, drinks piled on a table in the corner, Jim took Kevin’s arm properly, and took the lead.

They drank.

They mocked the interpretive dance students.

Kevin dragged Jim out the room whenever he caught sight of one of his family.

Kevin drank, and _drank._

He giggled.

He let Jim touch his hair. Apparently it was as soft as it looked.

They danced, with two girls that Jim knew.

Kevin yelled, above the music, “Do you know _everyone_?”

Jim smirked at him. “It helps to get out once in a while.”

Kevin said, “I should probably go.”

Jim wanted to see him out, but Kevin’s pocket was buzzing incessantly, and he had to look at it somewhere else, so he leaned in close and spoke directly to Jim’s ear. “This was fun.”

When he pulled away, there was an expression on Jim’s face he couldn’t read, something pink and hazy with drink and Kevin’s words and Kevin moved his hand in a graceless wave, and stumbled outside. He answered the phone to Aaron saying, “Where the fuck have you been?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, have something decidedly unchristmassy *rustles antlers* maybe il write something christmassy next *throws tinsel everywhere* not in jimfic of course it aint that kind of vibe *munches on roasted chestnut*

Kevin woke up hungover, angry, running a hand over his eyes and running over the events of the night, looking for anything untoward – the dancing, maybe. A little.

He pushed out of bed, and pulled the covers off Neil and Andrew, and walked out the room with the comforter still clenched in his fist.

“So, today’s going to be fun,” Andrew said, following Kevin with a grumble while Neil swore at him and jumped in the shower.

Kevin started taking all the breakfast food out.

Andrew said, “What’s wrong.”

Kevin said nothing.

He found a box of pancake batter, and while Andrew put the rejected breakfasts back, and mixed the batter together, Kevin found fruit and syrup and made smoothies – spinach and banana – and Andrew messaged the group chat and then Aaron and Nicky wandered in yawning and taking their places at the table like nothing had changed.

Kevin sat down, and Neil arrived with a raised eyebrow. “Where am I supposed to sit?”

Andrew scootched his chair back and Aaron groaned. Neil sat in his lap without fuss, picking up a fork.

Kevin passed him a smoothie cup and Neil took it without word.

Kevin liked this. Mornings, with all of them. Simple. Something he could understand.

They hopped in the car, and went to the mall – mostly for something to do – and Kevin followed Andrew around, hands in his pockets, furiously thinking about nothing.

Andrew said, “Did you make me a promise or something?”

So Kevin veered quickly in another direction.

He found Neil browsing books with Nicky and said, “I think we need an extra practise.”

Neil’s eyes flicked up. “No surprise there.”

“Weekends,” said Kevin, nodding as he spoke. “We need to stop slacking off.”

“Kevin take a _chill pill, please_ ,” said Nicky, adding a book to his small pile of Spanish children’s books he was recommending to Neil for language practise. ‘ _El caballo y el pelo’_.

Kevin felt restless, and shuffled his weight, and then snapped, “Do not speak to me about chilling, Nicky. It’s all you’ve done all semester.”

Nicky rolled his eyes. “It’s _Sunday_. I’m officially ending this conversation,” and walked off to pay for the books.

Neil watched him go, and then turned to Kevin. “You’re extra unlikeable today.”

Kevin felt hot at that, hot and unsurprised, and said, “That doesn’t matter. Tonight?”

Neil nodded. “Ok.” And Kevin walked off.

He had a message on his phone. It said, _last night was fun, who knew you had it in you._

They practised, and Kevin threw all his anger and restlessness at the wall, hearing satisfying _thud_ after _thud_ , barely noticing where the balls were flying, just that he was picking targets and hitting them, and Neil said something, Kevin didn’t hear, so Neil said it again, louder, so Kevin turned in his direction at the wrong time and his ball aimed in the wrong direction and caught him in the side.

Neil yelled out, and went to his knees, one hand on his side.

Kevin froze. “Neil.”

“I’m ok.”

He froze, and looked at his racquet, and tightened his fingers around it.

Andrew came onto the court, feet fast and furious. “Day,” he said.

“He’s ok,” Kevin said, but maybe it was too quiet, because Neil said, “I’m fine.”

“He’s fine,” Kevin said, again too quiet, half a court away while Andrew kneeled down and lifted Neil’s shirt and Neil said again he was ok, and Kevin felt blood pound through his skull.

“We’ll call it a day,” Kevin said, and no one heard him, so he took one step forward, and said it again, louder.

Neil and Andrew looked at him, and Andrew said, “Obviously. We’re going,” hauling Neil to his feet and stomping off the court.

Kevin collected balls, slow, miserable, trying desperately not to be. What a stupid thing, to be miserable.

The next morning, lying awake and staring at the ceiling, he heard Neil wake up, the covers rustling, something in a low voice to Andrew, and then Neil standing and pulling on shorts and a shirt and his shoes and leaving quietly, door shutting soft and final behind him. Neil didn’t go running every morning, Kevin had worked out it was only on mornings he couldn’t sleep, or had something to work out, or – or maybe he was restless. Angry. Miserable.

What did Josten have to feel miserable about. Kevin felt his eyebrows furrow in irritation. Neil had the Foxes, his whole career ahead of him, the best goalie in class I at his side.

_And murderous parents_ , Kevin thought.

Like who didn’t.

Kevin pushed the covers away from him, then brought them back, and thought,

_I have nothing._

He was slow that morning, felt his skin moving through air like that time he’d gone swimming at the beach. When he was 7. Like everything had become slow and he felt aware of death like it was minutes away, because it was, aware everyone else was having fun and he should have been too, but he wasn’t, because he couldn’t see anyone, couldn’t see mom or the master, couldn’t find Riko even though he kept turning his head, dizzy from the effort, treading water.

He kept his head down, and followed Andrew out to the car.

Kevin felt his phone buzz as he skipped going to the library that morning. He turned it off, and followed Andrew to his class, sat in an empty classroom opposite until Andrew came out to collect him.

Followed him as he went on his daily routine. Finding Neil outside English and walking him to Spanish. Studying on the roof for an hour. Another class. Buying a secondhand book. Lunch with Nicky. Afterwards, Andrew clicked his fingers right in Kevin’s face and said, “Are you going to _any_ classes today?” Kevin shook his head, and Andrew shoved him in the passenger seat.

They drove for an hour, just around, and Kevin let himself breathe in the easy air of Andrew’s car, all engine and leather and Andrew’s soap, and closed his eyes, and hummed along to the music Andrew liked, half pop half absolute noise, and started a half-hearted argument with him about it. Andrew argued half-heartedly back, and then it was time for afternoon practise.

Kevin went to bed at 9pm, and fell straight asleep.

A few days later, Nicky announced, “I’m throwing Andrew and Aaron a birthday party.”

Kevin raised an eyebrow, and didn’t comment, and Neil said, “Is that the best idea?”

They were in sweats, and eating noodles, and watching people decorate their house on the tv, and Andrew was somewhere doing something, no one ever seemed to know but Neil.

Kevin dug a fork into his noodles and said nothing.

Nicky said, “They’ve never let me before! I thought maybe you might be able to persuade them.”

A small smile tugged at Neil’s face. “No.”

“Why nooot,” Nicky whined.

“I don’t want Andrew to blame me for how little fun he’s going to have on his birthday.”

“Oh come on, like he’ll have fun either way.” Neil considered this. Nicky grinned. “Does he _ever_ have fun?”

Neil smirked, and opened his mouth, and Kevin pointed his fork at him, and said, “No. I’m eating noodles.”

Nicky lay back on the carpet dramatically. “No one ever lets me throw them birthday parties,” he said.

“Sure we do,” said Neil.

“Kevin only attended his because we didn’t tell him who it was for.”

Kevin slurped a noodle.

Nicky and Neil were having a silent argument, and Kevin stared at his bowl and refused to be part of it. He was only here because he was on the team, because he _was_ the team; he didn’t care whether they had birthday parties; didn’t care about birthdays; didn’t care.

Nicky said, “WONDERFUL.”

“You haven’t won,” said Neil.

“So – Saturday!”

“We have a match Friday,” Kevin said to his bowl.

“That’s _Friday_ ,” said Nicky with a smile. He got to his feet. “Invite whoever you want. I’m calling Kenny’s bar right now.”

He wandered off, feet padding throughout the dorm, and Neil said, a curious look on his face, “Hmm... who out of all our friends do you think we should invite,” and Kevin smiled a little, unbidden.

He had a message on his phone, _didn’t see you on monday. anything up?_

On Saturday morning Kevin woke up early, as requested, grabbed a blanket, and left the dorm in a hurry. He pounded on the other guys’ room until Matt opened the door, looking annoyed, a bleary-eyed Nicky behind him.

Kevin said, grumpily, “Kicked out of my own dorm.”

Nicky laughed, a sleepy hiccup interrupting it, and Matt just grinned at him. “Aaron stayed the night at Katelyn’s. Young love, huh?”

Kevin gave him a look, and Matt stepped aside. Kevin curled his long form onto the wide sofa, wrapped his blanket around his knees, and fell asleep to the sounds of gunfire and button smashing and Nicky saying, “Not a chance, not a chance in hell!” and didn’t wake again until lunchtime.

Neil and Andrew appeared, hand in hand, Andrew wearing what looked like a new, black woollen sweater, and Neil saying, “What’s up?”

Kevin gave them a look, annoyed at their wet hair and fresh, plump cheeks and – just everything. “Fuck you,” he said.

Neil smirked.

Andrew wandered into the kitchen and came back out holding a box of chocolates. “What’s this.”

“Oh yeah, that’s for you,” Nicky said distractedly from his position on the floor, taking off the head of a zombie.

Andrew looked at it again. “It is unwrapped, Nicky.”

“It’s a present for you, but you – _shit –_ you hate presents so I didn’t – _oops_ – wrap it.”

Andrew looked at Neil.

Neil said, “It’s still a present even if it isn’t wrapped.”

“Is it though?” asked Matt, eyes glued to the screen. “We need a working definition, here.”

“Is it a present if I can throw it at his head,” Andrew said, voice void of any real violence.

Kevin looked up, and said, “Nice sweater by the way. Where did you get it?”

Andrew began narrowing his eyes but Neil tore the box out of his hands and said, “Thank you Nicky,” and opened the box, and held a chocolate out in front of Andrew. Andrew took it, eyes flicking to Neil and softening, and pulled him to the ground where they sat cross-legged and picked through the chocolates.

Matt gave Kevin a look, amused and fond, and Kevin half-smiled and looked away and turned on his phone.

He had a missed call.

He put it back in his pocket.

Andrew said, chewing on a toffee, eyes on the side of Neil’s face, “Is it someone’s birthday today?”

They went to Kenny’s bar that evening. Andrew only went because no one had made the mistake of saying it was his birthday. Aaron came because Nicky wanted him to, and because he brought Katelyn, and because apparently birthdays were ‘important to her’, said with some muttering and a smug look from Neil as his hand tightened around Andrew’s.

Kevin dawdled at the back of the group as they walked downtown. Allison looked over her shoulder at him, and when she turned back he heard her saying to Dan, “...up with him?”

He frowned at her back, and watched the girl’s shoes on the sidewalk until they got to the bar.

Nicky had booked a few tables in the corner, bereft of any sort of decoration, and ordered shots the second he got through the door.

Andrew let him for once, tugged by Neil over to a corner where they could sit with their backs to the wall and brood at people.

Dan said, “Fuck us up Nicky,” and ordered a second round of shots immediately.

Renee was sliding into a seat next to Andrew, Allison following her, and Matt and Aaron were settling into seats next to Neil, and Kevin wasn’t sure where he was supposed to go.

He turned to head to the bar, and as he reached it saw Jim walk through the door.

And stopped.

Jim was unwrapping a yellow scarf from his neck, cheeks pink and hair mussed up, brown leather jacket tight and well-fitted, and – Nicky said, “Jim! Over here!”

Jim looked up, and saw Kevin, and smiled, a little unsure, and then looked at Nicky, and said, “Hey man,” and walked over to them.

Kevin turned away, and turned back, and leaned against the bar.

“You made it,” Nicky said, giving him a tight hug that Jim returned, flicking a look at Kevin.

“Yeah,” said Jim, pulling away and eyeing the tray of drinks. “Shit. We’re starting early, huh?”

“Yeah, my little cousins are 21, man!”

Jim laughed. “Not that you need an excuse.”

Nicky grinned, and pulled him closer as he turned round and said, “Dan! Our fierce leader. You remember Jim?”

Kevin’s heart started beating in his chest, hard and aching and he felt – sick. Something like sick. Something like empty.

Dan held out her hand, “Yeah I remember you.”

Jim shook it. “Cool. A hand shaker.” Dan laughed, and Nicky turned to Kevin.

Kevin looked at Nicky, and looked at Jim, and nodded, and said, “Jim, yes, hi.”

The already unreadable expression on Jim’s face melted away, and he was blank as he said, “Kevin, yeah.”

The barman appeared with the second tray of shots, and then there was a bustle of movement as they carried them over to the table, Jim helping to steady Nicky at one point when he nearly tripped over the leg of a barstool, a weak joke, “You sure you’re here on a sports scholarship?” and Kevin following behind.


End file.
